


Persistence of Vision

by kageygirl



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-19
Updated: 2005-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:05:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageygirl/pseuds/kageygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's not Kate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Persistence of Vision

**Author's Note:**

> Set very early in season 3; spoilers through 3x04, "Silver War."

She's not Kate.

Tony wraps his hands around Ziva's wrists when she rests her palms on his chest, balancing herself as she grinds her hips down against him. Her nails are ruthlessly, pragmatically short. Maybe shorter than his.

Sharper and blunter than Kate could ever be, though she tried so hard sometimes.

But she's not Kate.

Ziva jerks one hand out of his grip and bares her teeth. It's not a smile. She doesn't like being trapped; if Tony hadn't already figured that out, he would have known it by the way she pushed him back on the bed and straddled him. Not playful, but controlling.

He reaches up to push a tangled mass of hair out of her face, just as a reminder. Despite the physical resemblance--slight frame, dark hair, almost pixyish face--she's not Kate. So he can do things with her that he could never do with Kate.

Hate her, just a little.

Fuck her.

Tell her the truth.

"I'm not interested in a relationship," he'd said to Ziva, right before they stripped out of their clothes. "This is just sex."

"Of course," she'd said. "I'm not interested in you, either."

Her "you're an idiot" look was less comically disgusted than Kate's had been, less affectionate. Less individual, too, because McGee gets the exact same look. Blank, dismissive.

Impersonal. Just like this.

He braces his hands on her waist as he thrusts up into her, matching her rhythm, and she does smile this time, an animal snarl of satisfaction.

Kate never would have done this, never would have worked out all the crass, primal tension and adrenaline of a near-shooting by riding Tony into a mattress, short nails curled into his chest hair, scraping his skin.

But Ziva's not Kate. And the only reason Tony can work with her, look at her, every single day, is that she's not trying to be.


End file.
